Sunday, May 10, 2015



My favorite Mother’s Day present from you, by far. You were 10 years old and made me breakfast in bed. The one thing I could never and still can’t stomach in life is runny egg whites. You just hopped into bed with me and with that pointy little chin, those big brown eyes and the greatest grin on your face you watched me eat every single last bite! The purest form of love from a child. You were so proud of your endeavor, a true gift from the heart and I just loved you so much for that wonderful effort. I can tell you now that it was the hardest breakfast to get down! My best Mother’s Day—when Dad surprise flew Jason home from NY to be with us. My worse Mother’s Day—this one. Another First. A difficult First. A double box of 3-ply with Aloe tissue First. I was caught off guard again. I see what I’m doing now. The event nears. I hold it at arms’ length. I don’t embrace it or get too close until it is almost here. I’m pushing the feelings of grief away and then a trigger sets me off and I have a complete meltdown. My trigger was a post written by Shelley  Ramsey “A Letter to Grieving Moms”. A beautiful post. An honest post. Every memory I did not want to face, faced me front and center. I relived your life from your birth to your death, your passing, your transitioning. I yearned to cradle your infant body, feel your tiny arms around my neck, watch you grow and flourish in your teen years, bite my nails and cross my fingers during your college years, see you blossom and grow into a fine man, a businessman as your work ethic and passion for the family business settled deeply into your bones. I marveled at the loyalty you had for your friends and the supportive circle that you developed. I rejoiced in the roles of husband and father that you accepted and wore so well and I longed to feel your adult arms around me. Not this year. Not next year. Just memories . . . and this is just Saturday, I had yet to experience the main event.

Awoke Sunday morning to a Facebook post from Nikki (yes, I know your feelings about social media but Matt it provides a place for comfort and support right now). The post was homage to you, your big heart, your ability to love and cherish and to show up late, always late after playing golf. There is sensitivity, love, humor and gratefulness in that post. A ‘solo’ Mom trying to find her way without her beloved partner. She has so much love in her heart and she is a special Mom that needs to be honored and celebrated today. You have left Addy and Bear in very good hands. Dad and I were brought to tears. The phone rings and it is Jason calling to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day. Happy—not feeling it yet. I was blubbering when I answered and regretted that I was not able to be responsive to Jay. The sorrow that fills my heart for you seems to be forever fighting with the gratefulness that I feel for him. He understands. We talk about it. I don’t have guilt; I just want to find a way to give you each your due. Isn’t that what a Mother is always doing—looking to be fair among her children. Death does not feel fair but gratefulness does. It is healing. “In grief with hope”, my new mantra from Shelley Ramsey. And honey, that is how I am going to get through this journey.

Beth and Nikki, daughters in my heart, gave me the gift of words. Words that shook me back to reality, humbled me and a most precious gift that allows me to go back and read and reread whenever I need a pick-me-up or reality check. Yes, we did celebrate Mother’s Day because the source for celebration are my two beautiful, amazing men loved by two beautiful, amazing women and four beautiful grandchildren—beautiful inside and out. The inside so important. You all truly light up my life and consume me with gratefulness for the gift of Mothering this clan.

Your burgundy Henley was hugged and kissed a few extra times today. Your scent is still in the shirt. I feel like I am inhaling your spirit and your love when I hold it in my arms. I hold you in my heart Matthew. I hold your precious family and Jason’s as well. A very good Mother’s Day after all!

I pen this special meditation for us—a prayer if you will.


Broken love has four seasons

Winter’s gloom has a hold on me.

False faces hide the disappointment

. . . the grieving true me.

A vessel of hope shattered

Lost dreams, forgotten goals,

Shared interests, denial

Lay in pieces before me.

Emotions are dense, dull

I’m so tired, I need to find peace.

Dear Lord please help me.

I hear a voice that is gentle

As loving as can be.

“Dear Child

Acceptance and hope need only come from thee.

It is sad and it hurts.

Death stings like a bee.

Lost love won’t hurt forever.

Daily affirmations will help heal the injury.

Plant your seeds of strength and courage

A flower blooms in spring.

Replace your broken vessel

With a garden so alive, so colorful and free!

Wildflowers catch your spirit.

They will nurture your soul

. . . you’ll see.”

Spring is in the air – I can feel it.

My dance with hopelessness is ending

No need to listen to the song of fear.

I’ve planted my field with care and attention.

The sun, the rain and warm air are welcome.

I will let them feed me.

Looking forward to summer.

To feeling the breeze.

Nature is a soul teacher.

What lessons will she have for me?

Will she be silent and mysterious?

Are patience and trust the seeds she’ll sow for me?

Or will she be tenacious

Preparing me for the unexpected.

Willing me to stand on the two feet

The Universe has given me.

With fall comes the harvest

The bounty is spiritually full for me.

How blessed is life when you understand

The true gifts of Love, Hope and Charity.

I create a ceremonial meditation.

My mind is open,

My heart is free.

The future no longer frightening

We're on an adventure you and me.

Love you so muchforever.



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